He hated this part. His father spoke of the excitement before a battle, the anticipation. Adolin understood some of that. He’d felt the same thing many times on the Shattered Plains … but it had changed for him a while back. Maybe it was a year at war, maybe it was the capture of the Thrill. But he swore it had started long before—perhaps as far back as when he and his father had been betrayed by Sadeas, and left alone to die. Since that day, Adolin had started to hate battle. He liked showing his skill, he liked wearing the Plate, but he’d begun to be nauseated by the butchery. It … it was
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